


Lightning Comes In Many Forms

by aigroe



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aigroe/pseuds/aigroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos tells his mom about Cecil two months in. It’s a casual slip of the tongue, a “have you met anyone?” “yes, he’s wonderful” and suddenly she’s asking all about the mysterious new man in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightning Comes In Many Forms

Carlos tells his mom about Cecil two months in. It’s a casual slip of the tongue, a “have you met anyone?” “yes, he’s wonderful” and suddenly she’s asking all about the mysterious new man in his life. At first Carlos struggles with what to tell her, with what he could possibly explain about his life here without making her run for the proverbial hills, but soon the words are flowing off his tongue and he realises how much there is in Cecil that is not of that place.

“… he works as a community radio presenter and he’s so good at his job, he’s clever and funny, he likes videos of cute cats on facebook and pictures of small fluffy animals, he has the most awful dress sense…” And so on, until his mother’s curiosity is somewhat sated and her bath has nearly finished running. Carlos realises he’s been talking for almost ten minutes, and flushes in embarrassment.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she tells him. “You should tell me more about these things! Honestly, I don’t know why you can’t call more often.”

It’s because of the council’s strict limitations on phone use, and also because Carlos’ mobile phone has developed an unfortunate habit of occasionally turning into spaghetti. Okay, it only happened once, but he doesn’t want to give it a chance to develop the habit. “Sorry, mom, you know how it is. I’m so busy right now…”

“Doing what? That’s what I want to know!”

“Oh, science.” He’s been idly spinning on his chair, paying little attention to the computer, but the screen flashes with something that looks very urgent. “I really have to go. I’ll call again soon.”

She tsks. “You had better. Love you!"

The screen is alternating red and yellow and a colour that Carlos can’t quite name, and seems to be streaming with alerts which are, for some unfathomable reason, in French. “Love you too,” he manages to blurt out, and hangs up, already frantically typing.

Two hours later, with the computer virus successfully exorcized and a few confused reports proofread, Carlos is driving home with the radio on and a pounding headache. Cecil’s voice washes over him as the desert grows darker, and when he parks he just sits there and listens for a while, listens and smiles because Cecil’s voice still does that to him, sometimes.

He thinks, too, about his mom. Her voice is always grounding, but this time it doesn’t feel too good. He is grounded, yes, but Night Vale is like a thunderstorm: anything grounded attracts lightning.

When he gets in he’s too tired to make anything but a ketchup sandwich. It’s disgusting, but he hasn’t done the shopping in days and it’s the most flavoursome thing he can find. The doorbell rings as he’s finishing, and he answers to find Cecil stood on his doorstep, flushed but smiling. Before Carlos can say anything, he’s talking.

“So as I was leaving the station one of the interns was pinning up public safety flyers about the swarm of lights that descends on our lovely town every other leap year, and I had no idea that it was so soon but it turns out it’s next week and that means only one thing! Hello!”

Carlos wants nothing more than to sleep. “Hello. What does it mean?”

Cecil scoffs and rolls his eyes with a small, adoring smile. “Oh, Carlos. It means they’re spawning over the lake tonight, of course! And that really is not an event you want to miss!”

“Mm-hm?” Carlos sags against the doorframe. “Do you want to come in or something?”

“No! We have to get going! They’ll stop spawning on the stroke of midnight, so we only have… Gosh, Carlos, we barely have three hours!”

And yes, his heart is beating faster just for seeing Cecil and knowing that he came at nine o’clock to ask Carlos on an impromptu date, and yes he’s sure that whatever Cecil’s expecting to see it’s going to be beautiful and amazing and a little bit scary, and yes he feels recklessly, indulgently in love, but he is so tired.

Cecil sees his expression. “I mean, I could go alone. Or not go. Or I hear there’s a rerun of America’s Next Top Model, and only about three-quarters of it’s going to be replaced with council-approved scenes of alien bloodshed. That would be great too.”

His voice doesn’t lend itself to backtracking or stumbling. Carlos holds back a sigh. “No, that sounds great! Let me just grab my coat.”

Cecil’s smile is bright enough to light a house. Carlos doesn’t feel like he deserves it.

They cycle on Cecil’s goofy tandem bicycle, Carlos sat in the back. He doesn’t have to steer, so he’s able to look up at the sky. Tonight it has a red tinge to it, but at least the stars are there and, what’s more, mostly staying in the right place. The big dipper looks a little squashed and something else looks off, but mostly they’re behaving.

It’s only when they’re nearly there that Carlos realises a glaring incongruity. “A lake?”

“Oh, well, it’s more of a lagoon.”

“A lagoon- We’re in the desert!"

“Yes, well,” and Cecil veers off the road and starts along a dirt track, “the water comes from the sea.”

“The sea?”

So Cecil tells him about the sea that appears here at the end of every February, and how sometimes there are tiny green bugs and sometimes creatures come out of it and devour an innocent child and sometimes, every other leap year, there are the dangerously alluring lights.

“But if they’re so dangerously alluring, why do you all go and watch them?”

Cecil laughs. “Because they’re so goshdarn alluring!”

Carlos thinks about the multiverse and quantum states and wishes he was wearing his confused physicist labcoat rather than the one he generally reserves for evenings in. Then again, his confused physicist outfit has got a lot of use recently, second only to his extremely scared chemist and the hand-stitched perturbed biologist coat. He’s sure there must have been simpler days in Night Vale, when all he needed was his usual humble servant of science look, but they were long ago.


End file.
